There are days when I wish I could stand in the middle of one of the big box stores and just yell, “FUCK! Fuckaty, fuck, fuck, fuck!” like a million times. I mean seriously, those places were not meant for people who are over sensitive to anything!

Let’s start with entering the door. Bing, bong, bing, bang, ding, dong! I mean, geez!! Did I just walk into the worst bell concert ever?! There are bells going off everywhere!

If you actually make it through the swooshing doors and not get ran directly over by a thief (yes, that shit has happened to me no less than 3 times), then you are immediately greeted with the banging of carts being slammed together, or the screeching of the sounds of someone trying to pry those mother fuckers apart. I mean really! It seems like when the buggy boys gather all the carts together, those carts stick together like some damn bonding at the molecular level happens when no one is watching. Just minutes prior they were free ranging carts, who, with just a slight breeze, could travel the entire distance of the parking lot with the freedom of wild horses, but, the moment they touch another cart, you would think they were mating like the aforementioned horses and not letting go until they had made little baby carts.

When you finally spray cold water on those mating carts, and one finally lets go, besides completing your entire weekly workout trying to pick a cart, you now how the absolute fun of facing the inside of the actual store.

You enter the store, and the voice from above announces the special of the day, someone’s car is ready for pick up, or hey, shit head, there is a clean up in aisle 3. This is all being announced being the top 40 chart topping hits from, “hey, we have never heard of you” file. At times, your lovely shopping trip is interrupted, or should I say, shoved down your ear drum like a alien completly an anual probe on your anus, by a loud fuckign commericial about some product they are trying to get rid of this week, that no one wanted last week either. Finally, you have trained your brain to tune all that garbage out. You only want to get some damn milk, bread, and eggs. The three things most humans need in their kitchens on a weekly basis, but the damn stores have so nicely split these three things and strategically places them around the entire store (the size of three football fields) so you must pass by chocolate, cake, ice cream, and of course, those little frosted cakes you like so much. There is no way around it. To get to these 3 items, you will be tested at every level you can imagine. Finally, you have reached the bread without killing another human being today. But, right behind you, someone decides they want to ram their cart into your backside. You look around, a fight in your heart, you are ready to throw down and rumble. Come on lady, let’s make history right here in the bread aisle. You glance around, and what do you see? A little old lady, sweety grinning at you, and very nicely apologizing for running into you while going through her coupons. You calm your heart, you open your eyes, and you smile, all the while thinking, “You got lucky this time lady. But, only this time. We will meet again.” You smile nicely, and try to make it through the group of squealing little girls picking out a cake for someone’s birthday party. Childhood. You contemplate screaming at them, “you better appreciate it now, because after 30, it’s all downhill little girls,” but, sigh, you don’t have time and you haven’t saved up for bail this month. Sigh. The little things in life that help me keep my mouth shut. The public should be very happy with the complete control I show everyday I leave the house. But, no. I have the super power of being polite and sweet to others, and just like Superman, I must keep my secret to myself. No awards for keeping the world a safer place for me. Oh wait. I would be keeping the world a safer place from myself… so yea. I guess you don’t get awards for that. Well, dammit, I should.

Shit, where am I? I have been staring at this chocolate ice cream for like 15 minutes. If I get the ice cream, I will just cover it in chips or cereal and eat the whole darn gallon in less than a day. Ughhh… NO. I will not get it. So, I want my gold star in life for not buying the ice cream. YEA! Why can’t we get gold stars in life for doing the right thing? It would be like the tooth fairy, but, much less pain, and more rewarding. You do really great things in life and you wake up in the morning to gold stars on your headboard for all the great things you accomplished. The Gold Star Fairy (GSF) would get very tired, but, I guess he or she could delegate some of the work. Those who were little shit heads all day, could be serviced by mean fairies who would leave piles of doggy poo on their favorite shoes. Oh crap. These are really some really good ideas. Except, I would need to be nicer to everyone, or my shoes would get some doggy poo sometimes too. Yuck. I will revisit the GSF when I figure out how to be nice to everyone.

Sigh…. where in the hell is the milk? Crying baby!! NO! NO! NO!! Not the crying baby. I turned down the wrong aisle. There is a crying baby, woman screaming on her cell phone, and some kid hitting his sibling. OH No. My nightmares have all converged on me in one aisle!! I must turn back. I must get out. No. Someone has turned in behind me. Which means I have to keep going forward! I need to use the tactics I learned in the military when faced with an assault. GO! GO! GO! Push through!! I am pushing!! As fast as possible. I am past the screaming baby. I am past the fighting siblings, and woo hoo!! I am passing screaming, cell phone, lady! I might make it out of the aisle without having a complete nervous breakdown!! I see the light at the end of the tunnel, pushing through, almost there! NOOOOOO!!!! Electronic buggy is turning into the end of the aisle. I have no where to go. I can’t go forward. I can’t push back. It is a traffic jam! I am stuck right beside screaming, cell phone, lady!!! My nerves are shot. My heart rate is up. I might just explode! I plaster my smile as wide on my face as I can, and the words which come out of my mouth are strangers in my head. Through clenched teeth and with all the energy I have left to give to the world I say to electronic buggy dude, “is there anything on this alies I can get you to make your way easier?” He politely points to a box on the sleeve, I hold back every fiber of rage I have in my heart, I pass him the box, and he continue on his way to the next ailes. I push my way to the end of the aisle, and breathe a sigh of relief!! MLK Jr starts shouting in my head, “Free at last, free at last, Thank God almighty I am free at last!” If anyone could actually see the reaction in my brain, they would see mexican jumping beans doing some serious happy dancing. OK! Dammit. Now the mexican jumping beans are singing MLK Jr’s words, but with a very thick hispanic accent, while they are dancing a jog. That is just wrong. Very freaking funny (it’s times like this when I wish I could paint). But, it is very wrong. I shake my head to stop the singing beans and keep pushing through the crowds to make it to my goal.

I pass by someone wearing perfume so strong two people could have shared it. I am able to push on past and push this to the back of my head without throwing up. The lights, sounds, and screaming are only made worse when one more stimulus tries to push it’s way into my brain. I can’t control all the senses at once, so at this point, I am really suffering. I am sweating, my hands are shaking, and really, I would love to run out of the store screaming and never purchase milk, bread, and eggs ever again.

FOCUS! FOCUS! Now, where is the milk and eggs? I finally find the milk and eggs, and very quickly push my way down the main aisle to get back up to the register. On the way to the registers, I pass the scented trash bags (thank you asshole who decided everything in the grocery aisles needed to be scented), I pass motion detection tv monitor that scream commercials as you walk past which turn you into a better ninja then compared to walking into a spider web. Please, dear God! I really want to witness someone ripping one of those damn things off the end caps so freaking bad! Please, give me the strength and not let it be me. I look terrible in orange, and I am too pretty and too damn mental to end up in jail, but, please, let me witness someone losing their shit at those automatic commercials, and tearing them off the wall, stomping on them, pouring milk and cola on them, and throwing them to the other side of the store. Oh goodness. If Karma is really good, I have earned the right to witness this.

I finally make it to the register, again without murdering anyone or damaging property, and ding, ding, ding, my items are rung up with ease. Debit or credit? Debit. Cash? NO! Car wash? NO! Would you like to donate to the local charity today? NO! GEEZ! I just want to get my groceries and go home! Finally. My sale is final and I push my cart to the front of the door.

As I look back on the circus that is big box stores, I happily see the manager running after a thief who is much younger and in much better shape than the older manager. Oh, that poor bastard. Hey dumb-ass! Stealing sucks. Deal with the hell of shopping and paying for your shit like the rest of us! Watching the thief run out the door and almost run over a lady walking into the store, reminds me how lucky it wasn’t me this time. In a small way, I am a little melancholy about the thief not running into me. That is how many of my shopping trips start and this trip felt like something was missing. Yep. My occasional encounter with a manic running out the door had become part of my shopping experiences that I had come to expect. Oh well. At least the other shopper got her nerves revved up for her shopping experience. She will need the extra adrenaline to survive her trip in big box hell.

I make it to my car, put my cart into the cart corral (no free ranging for you today), and immediately wish I was a smoker. Damn. My nerves are shot and I am exhausted. I have never smoked, but, it’s times like this I wish I did. As I pull away from the store, the thought runs through my head that I could grow my own wheat and buy a cow and I would not have to shop. Could I do it? Yes. The answer is yes. If only I didn’t have to shop for all the items to grow those things, I might consider it. But, more shopping is not on the top of my to-do list. So, no cow for me.

45 minutes of shopping for 3 items. It’s time for a nap….. and a drink.

Until next time…be safe, be kind, and always be happy.